We got there around 7:30 and were told that they weren't taking any more names for the night. Waaaa-waaaaaa. We stayed awhile, because what else are you to do when you've got nowhere to go and a cooler of beer in your trunk?
And that's when we met him - Creepay. He was just a passerby who we asked to take our picture, and when he said, "Sure, you want me to take my pants off?" I just knew we were in for a treat.
Apparently, he had a reservation for four under the name of Creteaux, Carteaux, something, and kept trying to get us to take it. (See how the nickname Creepay evolved? Ashley and I both didn't feel the need to make it officially French when discussing the spelling for the blog.) There were never three other people with him and he seemed to just be hanging out. He told us the Corvette we parked next to was his, but then he said the party bus down the street was his, too. We weren't buying it...until he popped the hood of the Corvette to show Brent the engine (like he cared, but you know Brent - he's always polite when being held captive with a boring story.). This guy was just...out there.
Brent - "Ohhh wow, awesome. Mmm-hmmm, wow, that's quite the engine. You don't say!"
Jeremy - "Enough with this guy - I'm checking my email."
So we didn't get to actually eat at Bonge's, but we'll be sure to return. And when we do, my sincere hope is that Creepay is there again to take our picture (pants on) and entertain us with his stories.